


I Only Have a Moment, I'll Spend It With You

by bella_my_clarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Hugs, Short Fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8130238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bella_my_clarke/pseuds/bella_my_clarke
Summary: A collection of super-short bellarke drabbles, most of them spawning from an overabundance of feelings but determination to not have eighty wips. (Which I've managed...barely.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SERIOUSLY THESE ARE SO SO SO SO SHORT THEY'RE TINY SNIPPETS IN TIME

“Clarke.”

She turned, heart beating wildly. Only one person in existence could say her name like that. And by the time she had fully swiveled towards the sound, Bellamy had swung her up into his arms.

She latched her arms around his neck immediately and he spun her around in a circle. She laughed, half out of pure giddiness and half because of something she couldn’t quite explain; a shard of feeling shifting into place.

When Bellamy set her down and buried his face in her hair, breathing out in something like relief, Clarke grinned and said, “That spin was unnecessary.”

“It was totally necessary,” he grumbled, but she could feel his smile.

They remained there for who knows how long, Bellamy’s nose near her collarbone, her lips ghosting the junction between his neck and shoulder. It hadn’t always worked like this; it hadn’t always been easy for them to fit together like they were the same mold. But Clarke didn’t care. It only meant she treasured these moments more.

When they pulled away, Clarke went to inspect his face, fingers brushing his skin as she checked for injuries. “Are you okay?” She didn’t see anything lasting – some cuts, which were unfortunately to be expected – but she worried just the same. It was as a part of her to worry over Bellamy as it was to be stubborn, or draw, or breathe.

“Clarke, I’m fine,” he insisted. His eyes were soft.

She huffed. “You won’t be when I’m through with you. You’re three days late, Bellamy. That’s just irresponsible, not to mention rude to everyone who had to scramble around in your absence—”

Bellamy just laughed. “I missed you, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bellamy watched as Clarke left the room. She had been the epitome of clam during the meeting, but he knew her too well to be fooled completely, so he followed her out of the room and walked beside her—not saying anything, just being by her side. Clarke, sensing what he wanted, made a few turns and led them to an isolated room where they could talk in peace.

“What is it?” she asked, still trying to be casual. Her eyes wouldn’t quite meet his.

“I think I should be asking you that,” he replied gently, stepping closer.

Clarke sighed heavily. “There’s always something, Bellamy. It just how life works on the ground.”

He frowned. “But something specific for you right now.”

Seeming exasperated, she threw up her and said, “Well, you heard all the people at the meeting. Everything’s riding on this mission. I have to get it right or it’s over.”

“We have to. Clarke, you’re not fighting this battle alone.”

“But it’s me who’s leading the charge.” A stray hair fell into her face as she dropped her gaze, and his fingers twitched with the urge to brush it away.

“I’ll be right by your side, if you want me there,” he reminded her, hands carefully at his sides.

She finally met his gaze, and it occurred to Bellamy she was closer to him than she had been a second ago, though he didn’t remember moving. He could’ve nearly touched her hand just by extending her fingers. “I know,” she murmured, and through the sadness playing at her mouth, a small smile touched her eyes.

A moment passed, and Clarke sighed again, but this one sounded more like the beginning of a sob. She hung her head on his chest. “I don’t want to mess this up, Bellamy.” Her voice, barely a whisper, sounded just inches from shattering.

Instinctively, Bellamy wrapped an arm around her waist and ran his over hand over hair in what he hoped were soothing motions. “Not easy, is it?” he murmured with his cheek against the top of her head. Her arms went around his back and she pressed herself closer to him, which was all the response he needed.

“I’m here,” he whispered now, in case he forgot.

Clarke started to say something only to be interrupted by a voice down the hall, yelling their names. She froze instantly, but Bellamy gripped her tighter, trying to say, _You can have a moment longer, it’s all right._

The voice called out a few more times, getting increasingly quieter as the footsteps trailed away. Bellamy and Clarke remained still for a few more seconds, nothing passing between then except rhythmic inhales and exhales, then Clarke murmured against his shirt, “We should see what they want.”

“All right,” he said, even though he’d rather stand with her like this for days on end. He pressed his lips to her hair briefly and disengaged, an imprint of her still on his skin, a tattoo across his body.

She was a mark he never wanted to wash off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @sherlockvowsontheriverstyx on tumblr :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke really needs to get a haircut, because the consequences are becoming...well

“Clarke, what are you doing?”

Clarke turned and frowned at Bellamy, who was leaning in the doorway with a half-amused smirk (which made it sort of hard to hold the frown). “Brushing my hair.” She waved the brush for emphasis.

“Looks more like you’re trying to tear it out,” he said, stepping inside. He was still in his over-worn pajamas, which Clarke was _not_ into, and his hair was a bedraggled mess falling over his face, which was _definitely_ not making Clarke’s fingers itch with the urge to push it away.

“Are you here for any reason besides mocking me?” Clarke asked when he just stood there looking at her for a few moments.

Bellamy managed to retain his smirk, but she caught the way he shifted his weight slightly. “I thought if you refused to cut your hair, I’d help you keep it out of your way.”

Something pricked at Clarke’s heart, warm and familiar, and she was reminded of how happy she’d been when Raven revealed ALIE had lied about the reactors, not just because she would live, but because she had the chance to live with someone. Someone with messy curls and stars across the map of their body and eyes like home. Someone who….

Clarke swallowed hard and held out her brush. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Bellamy blinked, as if surprised she agreed, then stepped forward and took the offering—his hand curled around hers for just a moment, and she felt her body tense, and then he was stepping behind her. He untangled her hair slowly, carefully, and besides occasionally asking if he was hurting her (he never did), he said nothing. It was a shift from their normal banter of late, one Clarke felt like a burning coal somewhere between her heart and stomach.

“Okay, it’s brushed,” Bellamy said at last, and Clarke breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the need to take a step away from his overwhelming presence for a moment, but he didn’t move. “How do you want it?”

She turned her head to look at him in confusion—and nearly jerked backwards in surprise. His face was very close to hers, their noses nearly touching. _Focus,_ she ordered herself, and swallowed before asking, “What do you mean?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “How do you want your hair? There’s no point in untangling it if you’re just going to get it messed up again, like you do every day, so I need to fasten it somehow.”

There was a solid four seconds where Clarke just stared at him before she managed to say, “You…want to do my hair.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, so she might’ve thought he wasn’t thinking twice about it, but they were too close for her to miss the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “If it means avoiding having to deal with another incident of your hair caught in a bush or a tree, yes. I want to do your hair.”

They were definitely way too close; Clarke forced herself to turn away before she spoke. “Then do whatever you want. A braid? Can you do that?”

A laugh resonated behind her; breath on the back of her head. “I raised _Octavia. _Yeah, I can braid.”__

__He went for a side French braid, which was about the worst thing Clarke could imagine for her self-will, but she had asked for it, so. With sure fingers he drew all her hair to her right shoulder – her neck prickled from the ghost of his touch – and picked through the strands, bringing them together one by one. She watched him as he worked, not even bothering to conceal a smile. His eyes were narrowed in concentration and he had his lips pursed just slightly; it was like nothing existed, nothing mattered outside doing this simple task for her. It was… _domestic.__ _

__Clarke glanced away, wondering if Bellamy was close enough to hear the change in her heartbeat._ _

__Once he finished – it took maybe three minutes, but felt like several lifetimes – Bellamy stood back and examined his work. “You look good,” he said, smiling, and it took every ounce of Clarke’s will to look at the braid and agree instead of…something else._ _

__“Thanks, Bellamy,” she said, after he’d turned and started to walk out._ _

__He glanced over his shoulder, and Clarke felt that thing in her chest again, that coal of feeling that made her want his fingers running through her hair again. “Anytime.”_ _

__As soon as the door shut behind him, Clarke collapsed into a chair and looked at herself in the mirror. The braid was perfectly done, and the echo of Bellamy’s fingers near her cheek, his nose barely brushing hers, shone out like beacons against the reddening tinge of her face. “I need a haircut,” she groaned._ _

__(Maybe he’d cut it for her, too.)_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @sherlockvowsontheriverstyx on tumblr :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy have a talk, because we know how it would've really gone if they got to start with Bellamy Blake, and I just have feelings.

Clarke swallowed hard, trying to avoid staring at her best friend’s scars by holding his gaze. (Problem was, that was where they all lived.) “Are you—”

“Fine,” Bellamy muttered, seeming eager to get off the topic. “You?”

“I—” She hesitated, so crowded with images and memories she didn’t even know where to begin. Black blood coating her hands, painting a face she once kissed; boys and girls slumped over their dinner plates, burnt and rotting; her mother’s empty, calculating eyes. The terror that encompassed her when they brought in Bellamy, and the horror when she saw that same emptiness in his eyes. The noose around his neck, words like daggers. _This is your fault._ “I won’t be able to stop saying sorry, you know. For everything.”

Bellamy inched closer to her on the throne steps. “There’s no need. I’ve forgiven you, okay? I’ll always forgive you.”

“I know,” Clarke said, instinctively leaning into his side. The memory of Bellamy’s choked screams rose in her mind, and she dug her nails into her palms.

“It’s okay to feel...not okay, Clarke,” Bellamy said after a few moments. “You were just tortured by your own mother.”

“And I also chose to let you die,” she whispered.

Bellamy’s eyes softened. “Hey. You did the right thing, okay?”

Clarke nodded. She knew she had done the right thing; taking the chip to temporarily save Bellamy would’ve destroyed the world. Letting him die was really the only option. It hadn’t made it easier, though. “When Murphy and the others came, I was terrified they were too late, and when they said you were breathing....” She swallowed, and Bellamy looked like he wanted to say something, but she continued awkwardly, “Did you know when Abby – ALIE – was trying to figure out how to break me, she said to start with you? That’s why they made you take the chip, why they threatened the lives of Octavia and Miller and everyone else. To get to me.”

Bellamy stared at her for a moment, aghast. His lips parted, as if he was trying to gather his thoughts to speak, but nothing came out. He just kept...looking at her, like he’d just heard her voice for the first time.

“Bellamy,” Clarke whispered, after a long bout of silence. Their faces were so close. “You can say something.”

“I—” He cleared his throat and dropped his head. “Guess it’s a good thing it didn’t work.”

Instinctively, Clarke reached out and touched his arm. “Don’t say that.”

His head swung back to face her. “What?”

“Don’t—don’t treat it like it wasn’t a big deal. They started with you for a reason, Bellamy. I _can’t_ lose you again. I won’t.”

Clarke could hear his swallow, they were so close. “Are you saying you would choose differently, if you had the chance?”

“I’m saying,” she replied, resting her head on his shoulder, “that I’m glad you’re with me.”

There was a moment of hesitation, then Bellamy moved to wrap his arm around her and settled his cheek on her hair. “I’m glad, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @sherlockvowsontheriverstyx on tumblr :)
> 
> i think these are giving me excuses to stall on writer's block on my wips help


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke clean each other up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all i'm shook

For a moment, Clarke almost forgets she hasn’t told Bellamy the world’s ending in six months. Almost, because the way he’s watching his sister walk out is like the world has ended already.

He’s motionless for a long time, and then his legs seem to go weak for a second because he starts to tip forward. On instinct Clarke grabs at his arm, to steady him; his body stiffens under her touch, but he doesn’t acknowledge her. It’s like he can see nothing but the trail of blood leading out of the room.

“Bellamy,” she says, faltering over the word. She doesn’t know what to say, and she’s terrified of saying the wrong thing, so she moves to stand in front of him and tugs on his arms until he sinks onto the throne steps. There’s another moment of silence as she waits for him to look at her, and when he does, she can see the mask already sliding over his features, the tone of his voice. “What now?”

Clarke knows he’s trying to talk about the world, about the reactors and ALIE and everything he doesn’t know yet, but all she hears is the inaudible break in his voice. What do I do now? “First, we clean everyone up. Then…then we’ll see.”

Bellamy nods slowly and makes to stand, but Clarke holds him down. “You might be the filthiest of all of them,” she says, soft; afraid to scare him. “So you’re getting cleaned first.”

Either he sees her point or he doesn’t have the energy to say otherwise, because Bellamy simply nods and waits as she finds a wet cloth; when the fabric touches his skin, his eyes flutter shut and he goes pliant under her hands, like he’s fallen asleep. Clarke scrapes off the blood and grime of the last few days, trying to pry off the lingering darkness with it—the guilt, the looming future, the burdens they forgot to share. She scrapes until there’s only slickness under her fingers, and then she takes an unbloodied corner of the cloth and draws patterns over his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead, and all the while he just sits there, eyes closed, breathing softly.

“Okay,” she says at last, when she can see his freckles again and has overcome the temptation to touch them, and he opens his eyes. “You should be about clean now.”

“Thank you, Clarke,” he murmurs, and for the first time since he helped her come out of the City of Light, his eyes soften. It makes her heart ache. She covers one of his large, coarse hands with her damp one in an attempt at comfort; he glances at the movement, swallowing hard, and then winces at the small action.

“Is your neck okay?” she asks, immediately worried again, and reaches for the bright spots where Kane’s fingers had just been a few minutes before.

He leans away from the touch and drops his eyes. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’ll heal on its own.” Then, seeming to sense her dissatisfaction with this answer, he adds, “When we get back home you can doctor me up, okay? But there’s not much you can do here.”

Clarke knows he’s right, but that doesn’t mean she likes it. She can’t stand seeing Bellamy in pain. “I’ll hold you to that,” she says eventually, and the corner of his mouth almost lifts for a moment.

“I know you will,” he says, then suddenly pulls his hand from hers; Clarke’s heart stops for a split-second before she realizes he’s reaching for the rag. “Now, you’re not the cleanest yourself, so stay still.”

Obediently, Clarke closes her eyes as Bellamy brushes off the black blood from her face; it’s hard to stay still, especially when his thumb brushes over her lip for the second time that day, but she manages, and since she was mostly left out of the action, the process doesn’t take long. She almost regrets it.

“There you go,” he says, setting down the rag. “Good as new.”

“Thank you,” she replies, holding his gaze carefully.

His eyes flutter, just barely, at the words. “You did the same for me,” he says, after a moment.

“I don’t just mean cleaning me up,” she continues; her fingers itch to be touching his again. “Thank you for everything, Bellamy. I couldn’t have done any of this without you, and I can’t even imagine…just, thank you. For being there.” She almost adds I need you, but the words catch in her throat.

For a long moment, Bellamy just stares at her, half awed and half stunned. She’s surprised herself, frankly—she’s never been good with sharing her feelings. Then he grabs her hand and squeezes it; when he speaks, his voice is soft in every way she can think of. “Thank you for just the same.”

An ache builds in Clarke’s heart, and with it an urge to hold Bellamy’s hand forever, or kiss him, or hug him until all the pain and fear is gone. But she can’t do any of those things, not right now, so she just smiles and tells him, “Always.”

They have six months of pain ahead, and she doesn’t know if they’ll survive it, but at least she knows they won’t ever be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @sherlockvowsontheriverstyx on tumblr as always <3

**Author's Note:**

> @sherlockvowsontheriverstyx on tumblr :)
> 
> Prompts are cool


End file.
